


East Kids - Betty & Jughead

by Mystique1250



Series: East Kids [1]
Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Alice Cooper and FP Jones are a couple, Cheryl Blossom Deserves Better, Dark Betty Cooper, F/F, F/M, Good Parent FP Jones II, Lesbian Cheryl Blossom, Popular Betty Cooper, Protective FP Jones II, Sad Cheryl Blossom, Step-siblings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-16
Updated: 2019-02-16
Packaged: 2019-10-29 14:18:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply, Underage
Chapters: 17
Words: 14,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17809526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mystique1250/pseuds/Mystique1250
Summary: They are king and queen of the school, but they still don't like each other. Jughead thinks she's a slut and Betty thinks he's a womanizer. But when their parents come together, their lives begin to change completely. But do the two's points of view also change and do feelings perhaps arise?Au





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This has been a prosa story written by me. I transformed it into a Fan-Fiction so it's possible that the characters are different from how you know them. Betty in particular is different from the series. 
> 
> English isn't my first language.

**Betty**

"Now finally get up, Betty", the door of my room opens with a swing, while the shrill voice of my mother penetrates my ears. Immediately the light from the hallway streams into me and blinds me relentlessly. Sighing, I kick my blanket off with both legs before I turn around and cover my body again with the dark piece of cloth. From my throat comes dissatisfied humming. "I know for a fact that you are awake", although I have turned away from her, I can really feel her arms crossed in front of her chest. Her evil eye pierces my back.

"Why should I?" I mumble with my face pressed into the soft mattress and sound as if I had a blanket in my mouth. "Today you have to go back to school. The holidays are over," Mom tries to remind me.

I could never forget something like that. How can you not know when people no longer have time for night parties because they have to 'learn'?

"Why should I go there?" Now I don't sound tired anymore, I'm just annoyed. "Because I take away your mobile phone and have your cards blocked if you're not at the breakfast table in thirty minutes," she now begins to put her foot down. I take that as a challenge. "You wouldn't dare", now I turn around to her again and lean on my elbow. I'm sure she can see my challenging facial expression through the corridor light shining right on my face. She gives me the same look: "Sleep on and you'll find out."

I have definitely inherited my rather provocative nature from her. There's really no other way for me to explain our frequent and intense arguments.

With these words she simply turns on the light in my room and slams the door behind her as she leaves the room.

A little frightened, I shrug, but don't let it upset me. Why does my mother always have to be as stubborn as I am? Sometimes I have to give in.

Unfortunately, I inherited more than that from my mother. After all, at school she was just as much a slut as I was.

At the thought of what is said to me everywhere in my school, I have to smile. Other girls might be angry about such a reputation, but I don't mind hearing it. Because even that seems to bring the boys less away from me. Instead, it seems like it's driving even more of them into my arms.

Maybe it's also because of my relatively high position in the school hierarchy that I have more sexual partners in a week than it might be good, but I don't care about that. Let me help them to become more popular. The main thing is that there's something in it for me too. In the end, all that counts here on the Upper East Side is the money.

Since I am quite awake by now, I jump out of bed and look out of the window. Down there, several hundred people are already hurrying back and forth on the sidewalks in work stress, while the yellow taxis keep starting and stopping every few seconds. When I see something like that, I keep asking myself how the passengers don't throw up in all this. I would get sick of it in a matter of seconds. But I often get sick in the car.

It takes a few seconds until I can get away from the window. But when I'm ready, I walk straight through my big room to the wardrobe.

Thoughtfully I open the two cupboard doors and look at my many pieces of clothing and take out a pile of clothes that I prepared in the evening. If I didn't, I would be late every morning. Unfortunately, there is so much stuff in my closet that it is difficult to decide in a short time. But I don't want to complain. After all, I bought all these things myself, so it's my fault.

With a look in the mirror, I take off the white nightgown, which I always put on in summer to avoid sweating too much, and then look at myself briefly. Enough people find my body beautiful and perhaps even desirable, but I always have something that I don't like. In order not to fall into hours of self-criticism again, I pack my clothes and disappear into the adjacent bathroom.

Because I didn't get up early enough, I unfortunately don't have time to jump in the shower anymore, which is why I prefer to wash myself thoroughly before I actually get dressed.

After exactly twenty-nine minutes I climb down the stairs. Now my mother can't complain. After all, I'm even a minute early.

In a pretty good mood I let myself fall to my seat at the dining table and cross my legs, which are in tight black jeans. I twist my blonde hair, which I have tied to a high plait, between my fingers. I definitely got the hair colour from my grandmother. Mom also has dark hair, while mine is brighter.

My mother's look is so scanning that I soon feel like a food at the supermarket checkout. "Is something wrong?" I ask and put my mobile phone into the right pocket of my leather jacket, which is also black. Now she pinches her eyes together to slits: "No, everything's fine". "Class", the triumph I feel at the moment, is written in my face. Slowly I reach for a knife and start to smear the lower half of the roll, which is on my plate, with butter.

"Oh yes", from the corner of my eye I can see her looking at me carefully: "Dad sent you something." I stop moving for a moment. Immediately I feel my heartbeat accelerating. Gifts are always cool in general, but when my father is chosen, my mood doesn't necessarily rise. "Why? my voice sounds icy. "He just wants to be nice, Betty", now she gives me a gentle look: "You are important to him. "If I were important to him, he wouldn't have left me", I look at my mother with a firm gaze while I push my bread into my mouth. She tilts her head. The pain that my words leave in her is unmistakable: "He didn't leave you, but me". "I can understand that you are trying to tell yourself this, but the truth is that he just abandoned our family," I say, expecting Mom to keep trying to tell me that he still loves me, but I know better. He now has a new family and just threw me, his daughter, away as if I was just a bunch of garbage.

When my mother doesn't answer, I just stand up with my bun in my hand, from the table and stick on my high heels over to the kitchen counter. There is a parcel. Immediately I recognize that it is from my father. After all, it's not even packed.

"I then go to school," I say of myself briefly before I walk over to the elevator, grab my backpack and press the button to call the small metal cabin. "Shall I drive you?" she asks carefully. I'm sure she's deliberately not going back on my father.

"No, I'd rather drive myself", today the elevator takes a particularly long time again: "But I'm happy to take your car." Doors open at this moment. Before I get in, I take her key out of the bowl that holds all our keys and slip into the elevator. Fortunately, the doors close within a few seconds, so that I can no longer hear her contradiction.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Betty**

As the engine of the black car fades away, I pull the key out of the ignition lock and put it in my handbag. I briefly straighten the mirror to check my hairstyle. My hair is the only thing I always like about myself, while I am completely dissatisfied with the rest of my body.

I quickly release my gaze and pull black sunglasses out of my pocket to hide my nut-brown eyes. For me, the eyes are the gateway to the soul that I try to hide from the other students.

Nobody from school has to know everything about me. If only what I let them know reaches the ears of society, I keep control. That is why I am such a control freak. I would be ripped apart in the air if something private came to the surface.

I pluck my dark jacket and blue top before getting out of the car.

Almost all the parking spaces in the car park are full, which is because I am already quite late. Nevertheless, I am deeply relaxed as I slam the car door and walk straight into the modern East High school building.

I pull my cell phone out of my pocket and open the chat with my mother. It just occurred to me that today is a parents' evening she absolutely has to go to. Otherwise my teachers will soon call my parents. So far Mom has either never come or she has come much too late. I can understand that she really works a lot, but the school can't understand that.

As soon as I have typed in the message, I open the swing doors and enter the building. The corridors are also completely empty. Now I hurry a little so as not to get too much trouble. I can still afford to be ten minutes late, but after fifteen minutes it gets really tight.

Since mobile phones are actually forbidden here, I quickly put it away and stop at the door leading to our class. My pulse is completely calm when I simply enter without knocking.

Immediately the heads of all the students turn in my direction. A satisfied grin creeps up on my lips: "Hey." "You're too late, Miss Cooper", my teacher with glasses crosses his arms in front of his chest. "Yes, I know", I relax and let myself sink to my seat in the last row: "Sorry." "You're too late, Miss Cooper", my teacher with glasses crosses his arms in front of his chest.

The others really have to make an effort not to laugh immediately. "Do you think that's funny?", the teacher's strict gaze is firmly directed at me. I'd love to say 'a little', but since I don't want to be detained again, I stubbornly shake my head: "No, that's not funny." He pinches his eyes tightly, but says nothing more about it. Instead, he simply turns back to the blackboard and begins to write down some mathematical equations.

I've just started unpacking my books, so my name comes up again. "Don't you want to come to the blackboard and do some math, Miss Cooper," I slowly raise my head and stare past the teacher at the blackboard.

The numbers and letters on the blackboard are not incomprehensible to me, but I have no real desire to calculate in front of the whole class. "No, not today", I sink a little into myself.

Our teacher, Mr Gererra, only gives me a quiet laugh and then throws the chalk at me through the room without warning. It is immediately clear to me that this is an invitation to go to the blackboard. That's why I prefer to pick up the white piece and stand up groaning. With him I have now finally missed it. The next parent-teacher conference will certainly not be fun.

I feel the looks of the others burning at me. I don't usually feel uncomfortable with something like that, but I still don't like to go forward. The chance to do something wrong has suddenly become unpleasantly high.

After I have managed my tasks more or less well, I can finally sit down again. Relieved, I breathe a sigh of relief and hurry to finally get back to my seat. Oh great, already demonstrated on the first day of school. That looks like me again.

"Now that we've finally reactivated our math skills after the holidays, we're coming to our new students," announces Mister Gererra.

At this moment I remember again that after the catastrophe last year, the school insisted on awarding scholarships to five normalos from the city so that they would also get the chance for a better education.

This train may seem incredibly generous to many, but I know better. The scholarships were only awarded because you want to be kind. That is far removed from the heads of this school. They simply want to clean up their reputation, which was damaged last year.

"Can you please start introducing yourself", he makes an exuberant hand movement. Immediately I notice the five new ones. Finally they stick out like colourful dogs. When none of them get up to follow the demand, he raises one of his blond eyebrows: "Well, if none of them do it voluntarily, I'll call you in turn." The insecurity of the Five is written on their faces. "Miss Alici, please start," he continues.

A girl with brown hair rises from her place in the second row. Unfortunately I can't see her face, but her body has, admittedly, a beautiful shape. The voice of the person addressed is soft, but she doesn't seem shy: "Uh ... okay ... my name is Isabelle and I live with my family in Queens. I have a little sister who doesn't go to this school, and I usually go to the beach with my family during the holidays." Apparently she can't think of anything else, because she falls silent and looks at our teacher questioningly. He gives her a friendly smile: "Great. Mr. Flynn, would you please tell us something about yourself?

As soon as a dark-haired boy gets up and starts talking about himself, my concentration drifts away. Why should I listen to this? I won't have anything to do with these people later anyway and even if I do, I don't care if they have siblings and where they come from.

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Betty**

I just heard the bell ring for the break and my cell phone vibrates in my pocket. I quickly scurry out of the classroom into the hallway and fish out my smartphone. My mother's name immediately appears on the display.

My eyes roll annoyed. Why is she calling me at school? She knows I never truant on Mondays and she never remembers when I have a break anyway. But if I don't answer, she'll try again and again, whether it's important or not. So I stand in front of my locker, open it and take the call. I put the phone between my shoulder and my ear so I can put my books away and have a chance to take the new ones out.

"Hey Mom," I start to speak a little absently: "What's up?"  
"Why didn't you tell me it was parents' night tonight," she asks much too loud for my taste. I almost let my cell phone fall out of the tight grip in fright.  
With a contemptuous look I answer: "That's exactly what I did. You just either didn't listen to me or forgot again."

For a few seconds there is complete silence in the line.  
"Mom, are you still there?" I ask to interrupt the unpleasant mood.  
"Yes, I am', my mother sounds thoughtful.  
I swallow: "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be, but it's really important for me that you come. Otherwise we'll really get into trouble with school."  
"Yes, darling. I'll be there", now her voice sounds soft. Apparently she noticed how important the whole thing is to me: "I already set myself an alarm clock.  
"Thank you", now I'm also getting friendlier again.

"Have you already opened your father's gift?" she asks carefully. My father is a really sensitive subject for both of us.  
I grind the pine trees firmly: "No, not yet.  
"Please at least open it sometime and don't just throw it away," she asks me carefully: "He will surely call and ask for it.  
"All right, I'll do it", I take a deep breath: "But now I have to hang up, otherwise the break is over before I have eaten."  
"Okay, bye," she says and then hangs up before I can reply.

A little sobered, I almost throw my cell phone back into my pocket. It's good that she promised to come to school today, but my father's mention diminished my joy again. Every time he becomes the subject, my mood sinks almost directly into the cellar.

But since I am in school at the moment, I put on something like an imaginary mask and act as if nothing had happened. I've become a real professional at it now.

I walk over the corridor towards the break hall, where the students are always romping around at this time. I open the double swing doors with a swing and run over to the table of my friends on my black high heels. Surely at least one of them has a spicy story in store, which will make the rounds at school in the not too distant future. Not least because I contributed to it.


	4. Chapter 4

**Betty**

"And? Is there anything new?", I drop on my chair and cross my legs as usual: "I want to gossip, ladies." Cheryl and Veronica immediately turn their faces towards me, while Raven scratches the tabletop with her fingernail.

"So I heard that you were late again on the first day of school," Cheryl looks at me a little teasingly and stucks me in the side: "That makes another great impression with the teachers." "The person who decided to start school at eight in the morning can kiss my ass," I honestly say. "Like Bryce last week," Veronica stabs smiling. "Maybe", now I put a gloating expression on my face.

Although my girlfriends know that I change my boys quickly, they have no idea how fast it goes. I'm just not a relationship type and I say that to every one-night stand before we get involved. At least it stays fair.

"You really have to tell us more about your life," demands Cheryl, while she straightens her blonde braid and plucks her white shirt a little nervously. This behavior is more than just untypical for her. The blonde actually wears loose clothes at school and doesn't really care about wrinkles on her shirts.

A little surprised I raise an eyebrow, but don't go for it. If Cheryl would want us to know the reason for her dressing up a little, she would tell us of her own accord.

"I think so too', Veronica now joins in: 'Where were you on holiday? The Hamptons again? I lean back a bit on my chair and support my hands relaxed in the sides: "No, this year I was with Mom again in the Caribbean. "And was there a holiday flirt?", Veronica now continues to ask with interest.

I'm about to open my mouth and answer her that nothing particularly exciting has happened there, when Cheryl clears her throat and directs my gaze to a spot behind me.

I turn my head in amazement and stare in the direction in which my girlfriend tried to draw my attention.

There are two girls standing there who at first can't make the connection. But then it becomes clear to me that I have already seen one of them today. Although I forgot her name again, I still remember exactly the moment when she got up from her seat this morning and introduced herself. One of the scholarship holders. So I quickly conclude that the blonde girl, who is a bit in the background, must also be one of them.

Rougher than I wanted, I ask, "What is it?" "Can we sit down for a while," asks the brunette. I briefly exchange a glimpse with my friends and then announce the decision that I have made with the others at the table within a few seconds: "No, look for your own table. "But there are almost no seats left", giving in is far from my intention. The new ones can't learn early enough how things usually work here: "Then next time either come sooner or ask who else.

The girl twists her eyes and just wants to counter, the blonde grabs her behind her, she grabs her arm and stops her. They whisper briefly to each other, but then disappear without saying a word to me.

Inspired by this victory, I turn to my girls again. "You know, I just had an idea,' I start my sentence with a broad grin on my lips. "Out with it," Veronica demands with interest. "What do you think of a school year party at the beginning of my home?" I put my chair neatly back on the floor and look at the girls demandingly. "Great idea," my two friends agree, so you could almost think they were the same person. "And only selected people are allowed to come," Veronica shakes her black eyebrow: "You know, they've got enough money." "No, not this time", I fold my arms in front of my chest: "We could invite the new ones this time. Even more people than usual."

Immediately the dark-haired girl has the same idea as me: "Are you thinking of a little test to show the new ones how things are here in school? "Exactly I think about it", I moistened my lips with my tongue: "So they learn directly how things work in this school and we have a great party at the same time". "Just like before", Veronica rakes after. "Just like before," I confirm to her. The only one who doesn't seem to be too enthusiastic about it, though, is Cheryl, who now, just like Raven, turns to a hole in the table. Slowly, her strange behavior awakens my interest and the party will probably be my best opportunity to squeeze her out.


	5. Chapter 5

**Betty**

When the elevator doors open and open to me the view of our apartment, I want to shout loudly for my mother and tell her that I am at home. But then I remember that she is still at work and will immediately go to my school to listen to the annual chatter of my teachers. She will see them then, so probably not until the evening.

I have finished school pretty well, so I put my handbag on the dining table and put the car key next to it. This time Mom would kill me if I lost another key. I fish my mobile phone out of my pocket and then drop onto our black leather sofa.

Probably a lot of people would sit at their desk at this time and start their homework. However, I have banned this word from my vocabulary for several years now and I've gotten along well with this attitude so far.

I scroll through the contacts on my mobile phone and then tap Cheryl's Chat to write a message to everyone from there. My fingers almost fly over the keyboard as I write an invitation for all the students from my level.

_Congratulations,_   
_you are officially invited to my house party next Friday. Start: 20 o'clock_   
_End: until my mother kicks them all out_   
_Location: 991 5th Avenue (Top Floor), Upper East Side, Manhattan_   
_Also likes to bring enough alcohol._   
_xoxo Betty Cooper_

With the appropriate function I send the message to everyone, so I don't have to rewrite it every time. Then I put my mobile phone on the glass table in front of me and stare at the ceiling.

Because I am now completely alone, the boredom creeps in after some time with me. All my friends already told me in the afternoon that they already have something planned today, so I am alone despite my high position in school.

Right now I'm thinking about picking up my mobile phone again and surfing around on some social networks, that's when the package in my pocket comes to mind. Should I open it or just ignore it?

The second option would certainly save me a lot of trouble, but somehow curiosity grips me at this moment. This interest grows with every second, so that after a few minutes it drives me to get up from the sofa and look for the gift. It must be somewhere under my numerous notebooks, folders and blocks on the floor between the old chewing gum pack and the torn hairband.

So I pour out my bag all over the dining table and start to wish for a spell that makes the things I'm looking for appear right in front of my nose when I can't find them right now. That would make my everyday life a lot easier. However, my life is probably already so easy in many places that a few hurdles are simply prescribed by karma.

So while I keep searching, my mobile phone suddenly doesn't stop vibrating anymore. Every two seconds messages pop up from people who ask if I really meant them or want to know if they should bring alcohol. Some I answer with a short 'yes', while others I just ignore. Let them decide for themselves whether to come or bring themselves a drink.

I'm about to give up my search, and the inconspicuous brown package pokes me in the eye. With a contented smile on my lips, I grab it and drop onto a chair. I simply ignore the fact that all the contents of my handbag are scattered on the table.

Half interested and half afraid, I tear the cardboard apart and open the gift. I hope that it is not something material that his assistant had ordered in his name from Amazon. Although such things would probably be the purest dream for many teenagers my age, I wish for something personal. I don't know what exactly I expect, but somehow I always think when he sends something about the time I spent with him in my childhood. Then I want a gift from that time and not an iPhone or any other nonsense, but something from the heart. Inside me I still hope that he hasn't forgotten our time together, I hope to be more than just an annoying appendage for him, that you can quiet him down if you butter him up three times a year.

I put my hand expectantly into the packaging and hit a round wooden object with my fingertips. A little confused, I pull it out and look at the little wooden music box that I now hold in my hands.

The pink colour with which I painted it when I was six has already faded a little and gives me a glimpse of the white wood underneath. I gently stroke the toy with my thumb. I start turning the crank with two fingers. As soon as I have cranked for a few seconds, a soft melody sounds and the ballerina, which is positioned on top of it, starts her always the same dance.

Suddenly I see my younger self, with the colorful braces and the two braids, with my father in his workshop. He is in the process of carefully sawing out the dancer, while I sit on my little chair next to him, smearing not only the wood, but also myself, with bright pink paint. Again and again I lie over to him and watch him, then for a few seconds marvelling at how he does the filigree work, before I proudly dedicate myself to my own work again.

I completely forgot that he had it. He probably took it with him when he moved out and may have been waiting for the right day to send it back to me. For me it has always been the sign of our father-daughter love, which I have suppressed for years.

All of a sudden I lay my head on the table and keep my eyes on it while I soak up the music as if it were vital to me.

Soon I don't notice the cold glass under my cheek, nor the vibration of my cell phone. Only the soft droning finds my attention and makes its way into my brain, while I remember my childhood as if in a dream.


	6. Chapter 6

**Jughead**

"Dad", I shout through the whole house, expecting to hear the usual humming from any room, to show me that he heard me. To my astonishment, however, I am surprised to hear: "If you want something, you have to come here". "Why?" I shout again and try to find out from which direction his voice is reaching my ears. "Because I don't want to scream through the whole house', he now also screams. The irony of his words seems not to have struck him.

Fortunately, I can estimate the direction in which he might find himself relatively well now. With my mobile phone in my hand I stop in front of his room door and knock: "Can I come in? "Sure, I told you to come in," the male voice of my father sounds from inside.

I briefly consider reminding him that he shouldn't say something like that too hastily, because it really took a long time to erase my father's picture on a naked woman from my head, but then I leave it. Nevertheless, to be on the safe side, I count to ten inside again, in order to at least give him the opportunity to get dressed quickly.

All the more surprised I am when I open the door after a few seconds and find my dad again in front of the mirror. He has dressed up noticeably. Only his brown-blonde hair, which in no way resembles my dark brown, is as fuzzy as ever. One could almost think that it would be his trademark.

"Wow, did I miss something?" I ask, surprised and let myself fall on his bed: "Maybe a party for singles from sixty plus?" I see his slightly sour facial expression in the mirror and his eyes wandering in my direction.

"First of all you should pay better attention in math, my son, because then you would know that I would still be too young for these parties", he almost sounds like a responsible fifteen-year-old, who explains to his friends why he can't come to the hip clubs yet: "And secondly it's parents' evening today. I can't show up in a T-shirt and shorts."

"But in a two thousand dollar suit or what?", I look skeptically at the black suit and the matching bow tie: "This is a parents' evening and not a Tinderdate." "I know that", now he turns around to me: "Besides, I would never show up on a date like that." "But on a parents' evening, I grin and let myself sink into his pillows to evade his reproachful look: "But you're not trying to get close to one of the single moms again, are you? That didn't go well last time. Besides, you only get the old assistant of our director." "You don't have to remind me again and again", he smoothes out his dark suit jacket: "I just want to make a good impression. You should try it, too."

I give him an offended look. "What did you actually want?", now he lets himself sink into the pillows next to me. "I just wanted to say that maybe I'll go to someone's party from the step on Friday," I explain briefly. "Are you asking me in a strange way if you can go or are you just telling me without asking for permission?

"Actually, it was just information," I bite my lower lip. "Let's assume that I accept this info in such a way, whose party would it be then", he jumps on this train. "I don't care who the organizer is," I shrug my shoulders bored. Every year somebody organizes a party at the beginning of the school year and I never care who organizes it. So why should I pay attention this year?

"Hey, I just want to know where to pick you up when the neighbors call the police again. That's all," my father does, played and uninterested. However, I know exactly that it is important to him to know where I am going. I am the only family he still has after Mom just disappeared. He just doesn't want to lose me.

So I sigh fruitfully and start reading the message again to look for the place. "991 5th Avenue," I read, but still don't pay attention to the sender's name. After all, I don't go there because of this person, but only because of my friends and the free alcohol.

"Isn't that right next door?" my father rakes again. To avoid his further questions, I take a look at my wristwatch: "Shouldn't you be getting ready? The single ladies are waiting for you."

Afraid that he'll throw a slipper at me if I pester him any further, I get up from his bed again and make my way to the door.

But just as I've set foot in the hallway and begin to lull myself into safety, another comment follows: "But think of the condoms on Friday. You would be a lousy father!

For a moment I want to stop and counter, but then leave it at that. After all, my dad is already very relaxed and shows a lot of understanding for me. If I were to remind him now of Mom's own early pregnancy and the fact that he wanted to leave her because of it, I would later hate myself for it.

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Betty**

The rest of the week is almost uneventful. Here and there a little trouble with some teacher, an argument with one of the five scholarship holders or just some small progress in planning the party next Friday. And then the day begins with my mother suddenly looking far too happy in the morning.

She's almost winged dancing through the kitchen and still hasn't stopped when I get home after school. "Mom," I take off my jacket and hang it on the coat hook: "But you know you should leave around eight o'clock when the first guests arrive, right?

From the corner of my eye I can see my mother moving her head jerkily in my direction. Suddenly a dark spot on a plate in front of me begins to seem more than interesting when my mother begins to answer: "Yes, I realize that. After all, it's always like that. "Is it?" I ask and try to sound hypocritical and not to look at her.

I know for myself that it is not really friendly of me to always send them away when I celebrate. But if she would stay here, a normal party would be impossible. "Thank you for understanding me so much," I mumble and grab a banana.

"I don't have a banana at all", it means to me with a gesture of my hand that I should throw the banana I just took over to her: "Today I just have something to do myself and maybe I'll stay away overnight. So letting you celebrate your party there is just convenient for me."

I knew she wouldn't do that for me, but only for herself. So she kills two birds with one stone. Typically business woman.

"Why? What are you up to today", now I turn my eyes to her and lean my elbows on the black counter of our open kitchen. "Nothing special", suddenly it seems as if we have changed roles. She stares outside as if spellbound. As if she had seen a particularly interesting bird fly by.

"Oh come on, Mom," I ask as she begins to open the banana: "Now you've awakened my interest, you can tell me everything now." "All right," she looks at me with a firm look: "I'm going on a date tonight." "A what?" I ask stupidly.

My mother hasn't been on a date for more than a year. In the meantime there were already a few little flirts, but nothing really firm about which she would have told me. I also learned about her very short male acquaintances only by chance.

It only takes a few seconds until I have come to terms with the thoughts of a man at my mother's side, but then the shock subsides again. A shallow smile lies on my lips and a touch of joy spreads through me. Somehow I begin to rejoice for her. She really deserves to be happy again after my father left her.

Just as I'm about to open my mouth and say something about it, the doors of the elevator glide open one more time that day. The two people who are now standing in the hallway of our house put a big smile on my lips. Cheryl and Veronica are standing there with an equally joyful grin. Both have come to help me with the preparations for the party. On my own I would never be able to do that.

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Jughead**

The bass is already booming loudly when I enter the host's penthouse. I still haven't found out whose house this is, but I don't care. The main thing is a good party. That's all I'm interested in at the moment.

At the entrance I meet Archie James, my best friend of many years. We've known each other since we went to kindergarten together and fortunately our friendship has always been great. That doesn't mean that we never argue, because that happens even to our best friends, but we would never betray or betray the others. This is forbidden by the Bro-Code alone.

"Hey, man," I pull him into a buddy hug and pat him on the back to greet him. This has now become something like a ritual of greeting between us. "Hey," the good-humoured swimmer replies, "I didn't think you'd come."

Surprised I detach myself from him and put a questioning look on: "Why should I miss such a party? I move my hand to capture the glory of the approaching night. "Don't you know whose apartment this is?" Now he looks just as confused as I am. "No, where would I come from? because according to him it seems to be a reason for me not to come, I now want to know who invited me at all. After all, I really have to hate her to miss this party.

Instead of answering, Archie pulls his cell phone out of the back pocket of his jeans and briefly taps around on his display. A few seconds later he holds it in front of my nose: "Did you get this message?

I briefly skim the first lines to compare and nod: "Yes, that's the one. Why?" "You didn't happen to read to the end, did you?" checks the redhead. "What for? The person should feel honored that I'm here," I show off: "My presence immediately raises the level a lot. "Yes, believe it or not, bro," he pats me firmly on the shoulder. He's the only one who can tell me if I go too far. I don't blame him alone. After all, he knows me very well and has meanwhile become something of a consultant to me.

"Please read the last line, Jughead", he demands of me and I comply with this demand. Again I fly over everything until I reach the last line. As I raise my gaze, my gaze is a little grim: "Betty? That's this bitch's party?" "Don't call her that here," he warns me quietly whispering. "Why not? Who wants to forbid me to do that?" I can't understand why I can't say out loud what's floating around in my head. "You know that in school she's in a similar position to you," he reminds me: "The boys want her and the girls want to be like them. She's like a female version of you."

Instantly I burst out laughing: "A female version of me? Certainly not. I'm way too hot for that." "Hot? She doesn't look that bad," my best friend prints around. "Even if it is," I try to deny her pretty good looks: "But we're still not on the same level." "Believe that again", grinning he disappears in the crowd and leaves me alone.

Now I'm caught between two possibilities. Either I stay and get so drunk that I forget whose house this is, or I leave again and spend the rest of the evening alone on the sofa with a bag of chips and a can of Red Bull.

Because the last possibility sounds really sad, I just want to decide for the first one, when I see the girl I talked to Archie about until now. Briefly I look at her extensively.

In fact, Archie has right. Ugly would be the last word they would use to describe her. She wears a tight black dress with a sufficiently deep neckline. Her hair falls open over her shoulders and the upper part of her back, which is not covered by the dark fabric of her outfit.

And I can think of a third possibility. I've had at least one night with almost every girl from this level. There are only a few left on my list and she is one of them. Besides, my position as king of the school is quite threatened by the new ones. And it wouldn't be difficult for me to get close to them anyway. After all, she jumps into the box with everyone. Then why should she make an exception for me? Besides, it would be good if king and queen would unite. It's my only option if I don't want this arrogant newcomer - I think Jayden was his name - to snatch my post.

So with a satisfied grin I begin to listen to the music as I walk towards it.


	9. Chapter 9

**Betty**

"Drink, drink, drink!" the bystanders say to me. Grinning, I rise from my seat on the sofa I have promised myself and take one of the numerous bottles of vodka from the table. "If you'd like that so much ...", I look into the round with a grin: " ... then I'll have mercy on you. " I unscrew the lid with nimble fingers and consider to take a glass, put the bottle then, however, simply so to the mouth and begin the hot, burning liquid my throat down into my body to let flow.

Although I know that the alcohol won't make me drunk immediately, I can already feel the euphoria spreading inside me. I pour more and more into myself until the bottle is almost empty and then pass it on to someone on my left. I can't get completely drunk. Then everything will get out of hand and I can't afford that.

Once before exactly what I am trying to protect myself from right now has happened. First I thought it was relatively good, but then I woke up in the morning and had to face the huge thunder of my mother after some of my gestures destroyed a vase, looted the fridge and the alcohol and tore the leather of the sofa.

Since then I have been paying better attention. I watch as the boy next to me empties the drink and then yells while the bystanders celebrate.

I'm about to drop back onto the sofa, when I notice Veronica's staring gaze. As soon as I have noticed, she tries to draw my attention to the two girls who are sitting a little apart. I immediately recognize her as the two who molested me during the break on Monday.

To make it clear to her that I understood her, I nod to Veronica. The past few days I have spent thinking up a perfect diabolical plan and today I can finally put it into action.

"I'll make some drinks for our new ones," I announce, leaving the sitting area and strolling across to the bar. Once there, I open the cola, put a shot in two glasses and then fill up with alcohol until the mixture almost spills over. But I'm not finished yet. To get the scholarship holders to do what I want, it probably takes more than a small drink mix. After all, they are totally prude.

I turn my head around to Veronica and wave them inconspicuously over to me: "Do you have what I need? "You can count on me," she hands me two small pink tablets. She takes special care that no one can see it. I accept her just as discreetly.

My heart beats faster at the thought of drugging two people. I may be accused of some things, but I don't normally do that. Drugs aren't something I really like to give myself away with, but Veronica said it would be easier to 'loosen up' the mood a little. After thinking about it a little, I agreed. But I don't know if I should still like it now. Besides, I have no idea what I am holding in my hands or where my girlfriend got the stuff.

Apparently it took me far too long to make my decision, because at this very moment two strong arms are wrapped around my waist from behind. My breath stops for a moment. If someone catches me with this stuff, I am dead.

In a short-circuit reaction I drop the two wrapped pills into the pocket of a jacket that someone has put down on the bar. I don't know who it belongs to, but I'd love to get it out right away.

The person who is bringing her mouth to my neck at this moment is the only obstacle preventing me from getting the stuff back. I can literally see my eyes widen as my heart beats so fast that it threatens to jump out of my chest at any moment. Suddenly it feels like it was a huge mistake to do what Veronica says.


	10. Chapter 10

**Betty**

For a moment I try to direct my thoughts, away from drugs, towards the person who has wrapped his arms around me. I want to turn my head towards the boy, but he puts his fingers under my chin and doesn't let me look at him.

That is enough for me. Although I like it when a guy between by times dares to show dominance, but at this moment it is just inappropriate. "Can you please let me go?', I ask, still in a friendly way, in order not to give the person too hard a basket: 'I don't have time for that right now.

Gently he drives his rough thumb over my jaw: "Come on, Betty. Can't you postpone your plans until later?"

After a few seconds I realize who's behind me. At first it feels as if I'm freezing, but then I start again: "Say, what's got into you anyway? I have to muster all my strength to turn around in his arms.

In this position I can see the triumphant sparkle in his eyes, which is reflected in his cheeky grin. I would love to vomit at this moment. I am so close to him that I can even feel the warmth of his chest. And that just feels wrong. Automatically a shiver runs down my back, but it feels anything but comfortable.

"Can't I touch you," his dark-brown eyebrows are moving upwards. "No, certainly not", I stare defiantly at him and just wish that he would finally let me go. His appearance is not ugly, but his character is.

He knows very well that most girls in school like him and that's how he behaves. That's why he thinks he can have any girl and pretends to be a superstar. Sometimes I feel really sorry for his friends. Will he change them as often as his girlfriends?

"Why not? After all, you let everyone else get to it when he asks you to," he strokes up and down my side with two fingers. I don't necessarily dislike these touches, but only the fact that it's him who touches me. If it were another boy, I probably wouldn't let him down as cold as Jughead.

"I'm still the one here who decides who can touch me, and you certainly don't count among these people." My voice is cold and hard. He is one of the only boys who never interested me. Far too early I made the mistake of talking to him and got to know his character. He also thinks I'm a slut, which I admit I am. But that doesn't give him the right to talk badly about me. Basically, he does exactly the same thing as me.

The main differences between us, however, are that I don't sleep with people in order to be able to tick them off on a list later, but to give this person and myself pleasure. I don't boast about it, while he just likes to do it. And at the same time he is also celebrated by his friends as a coveted romanizer, while I am called a slut.

"Why not?" he winking mischievously at me: "I was pretty sure you'd like it." That's enough for me now! I really don't feel like dealing with him now, because I have other things to do.

"Well, wrong thought. Now please let me go", I try to sound calm, although he just annoys me while I'm freeing myself from him.

As soon as I am finally free, I take a few steps away from him. With my back I push against an edge of the bar. Immediately I am sure that in a few days a small bruise will appear on my back, but I try not to let it show. Instead, I just lift my chin a bit to feel more confident about myself.

He twists his eyes and then steams off without another word. Sometimes I really wonder if his mother dropped him after the birth.

I continue to follow him with my eyes until he disappears into the crowd, and then I suck in air sharply several times. Why is it suddenly so warm in here?

Because I am afraid that the others will soon wonder where I am, I take both glasses in my hands and make my way back to the others. Hopefully nobody has seen what just happened. I don't want anyone to think we have anything. I really don't feel like listening to such rumours. After all, everyone knows that Jughead   
the last person I'd start anything with. Anyway, everyone apart from himself.

 


	11. Chapter 11

**Betty**

When I return to the others, my best friends have already put the new ones through their paces. Veronica has dropped to the right of the blonde with the glasses on, while Cheryl has positioned herself next to the more courageous of the two.

As self-confident as possible, run towards the four girls on my black high heels. Played friendly I give him each of the new ones a drink.

Both seem quite suspicious and one of them even sniffs the drink carefully. "Come on, ladies," I put on a fake smile: "I'm not poisoning you." "Oh no? But somehow I'd trust you to do that," the brunette hisses.

I put my head crooked and bite my lip. Somehow I have to get her to drink, otherwise we can forget our 'welcome test'. In my head the most different thoughts race around.

"We really didn't have a good start and I think we should start over", I stretch my hand out to the girl: "I'm Betty Cooper. And you? I put the question afterwards because I really forgot their names.

"Certainly n...", the brown-haired girl starts, but is interrupted by her girlfriend. "Yes, I think it would be a good idea to start over. I'm Carly Shaffer," Carly introduces herself before she also shows the dark-haired one: "And that's Isabelle Alici." Isabelle stares a little offended at the other girl: "So I don't trust her, Carly."

I really have to try hard not to roll my eyes. How can a person be so stubborn? Nevertheless, I try to stay nice. The fact that 'nice' is the little sister of 'shit,' I'd rather fade it out at this point. "Great, wouldn't it be a good idea to drink a toast to our new acquaintance?", I start a new attempt to finally get her to drink.

"I don't know", Carly scratches her back of her head, but Veronica intervenes: "Oh come on. Only bores don't drink at parties and you wouldn't be alone. We join in." On her lips sneaks devilish grin. Slowly it starts to surprise me that she is much more eager to do it than I am myself.

"All right, Isabelle bites her lip. Probably it was the word 'boring' that convinced her. After all, nobody would like to be labelled as boring by everyone in the first week.

"Great", I switch on again and pour Veronica and myself a glass of Hugo. Fortunately, the newcomers have no idea at this time that their drinks will be much stronger than our own.

When I also offer Cheryl a drink, she shakes her head defensively: "No, today I'm not drinking, people. I'm sorry." A little disappointed I look at her, but respect her opinion. After all, I don't want to force them either. Friends don't do that.

"Well, then just with Veronica", I hand my girlfriend her glass before I put my own on my lips. "On one", she announces immediately and begins to count down: "Three!"

From the corner of my eye I can see how the two of them look insecurely at each other. It almost seems as if they've never drunk anything before, but I'm sure I'm wrong about that. After all, there are certainly house parties at normal schools from time to time. Especially at our age. It's hard to get around that anymore.

"Two", my girlfriend continues, while the others lead the containers to her mouth as well. But they don't seem completely ready. Instead one could even say that they don't seem to be sure what to do in such a situation.

"One", the last letters of the word get a little lost because she's already started drinking. It was clear that she was hottest on this task.

I also start to drink, but watch the other two from the corner of my eye.

She keeps her eyes closed so tight you might think they're trying to wake up from a nightmare. Nevertheless, they both tilt everything down consistently.

Of course Veronica - how could it be any other way - is finished first. Then I follow, then Carly and finally Isabelle. I would have thought that Carly would be the last, but that's the way I want it to be.

"Say girls," Veronica starts with a broad grin on her lips: "Do you want to play a game?"

About half an hour later we sit with some other guys on the carpet in the living room and play 'I've never had one'. Normally you have to drink a drink when you've played the game, but fortunately both Isabelle and Carly didn't know the game. That gave us the opportunity to change the rules a bit.

Instead of drinking shots, you have to take off your clothes. But this doesn't happen, as usual, when you've already done it, but when you've never done it before. For me personally, that plays into the cards immensely. After all, I've done almost everything that might spontaneously occur to you.

"I have never ...", I begin now for the third time:" ... my parents' car destroyed." Normally I really wouldn't bump into it, but in this game this, admittedly not unique, mistake benefits me.

I still wear almost all my clothes, which is somehow a pity. I only had to get rid of my shoes so far. In contrast to me Carly and Isabelle wear much less clothes. Right now Carly takes off her grey T-shirt so that she is only sitting in her bra and trousers, while Isabelle hasn't even stayed.

In the beginning both were embarrassed, but several drinks later, they were as relaxed as two potheads in the Netherlands.

"Hey, Isabelle. Give me your mobile phone," Veronica says: "We should take some pictures for Instagram. As a souvenir". Veronica has already drunk so much that I wonder why she hasn't been puking in the bathroom for a long time, but even in this state she still seems to be totally obsessed with carrying our plan through.

We thought that in this state they would like to take some pictures with us and share them with the world. After all, everyone made such a mistake when they were drunk for the first time. My pictures weren't bad, but that doesn't mean that I will spare the newcomers.

So they learn how quickly rumours spread at this school. One could even say that a mistake at our level becomes a conversation faster than the new episode 'Keeping up with the Kardashians'.

I unknown words before itself lallend, Isabelle reaches my friend the mobile phone, after this one has requested. Quickly Carly, Isabelle and myself drape around the black haired girl to get into the picture.

Without asking permission, Veronica opens Instagram and then the photo function before she starts posing. Isabelle puts her head on my best friend's shoulder while Carly tries to make herself felt in the background. Somehow I've lost the desire for a photo at this moment. I much prefer to watch the stupid behaviour of the others.

Isabelle pretends to be flirting with her cell phone while Veronica takes pictures of her, then exchanges a few hot, ample tongues with both Carly and Veronica. Not that it's anything special.

The really funny follows a few seconds later, when Isabelle tries to free herself from her bra, which seems to restrict her. In a drunken state this isn't that easy, though. I know that well enough from experience.

With a kind smile on her lips, the dark-haired woman, who now seems to have taken control of the whole thing, hands me her cell phone and winking mischievously at me. Immediately it is clear to me what she demands of me. I have to take pictures.

Veronica gives me another look while she tries to open Isabelle's bra.

At this very moment something happens that is much more photo mature than what Veronica has planned. First Isabelle holds her hands in front of her mouth and makes some choking noises. Then Isabelle's facial expression changes as if in slow motion and a few seconds later she vomits on the top of my best friend.

This is the moment when I can no longer control myself. I start to loudly snort and take the opportunity where all bystanders stare at the scene to shoot a whole series of pictures. This is really the best party in a long time.


	12. Chapter 12

**Betty**

When I'm woken up by the sun's rays the next morning, something is different. At first I just try to turn around and discard the thought, but within a few seconds it has clung to my mind like a tick and doesn't seem ready to let me go again.

So I sighed a lot to get rid of my displeasure and then slowly open my eyes. At first everything is blurry, but then it becomes clearer and I notice that there is something funny about me.

I lift my blanket so high that I can just look under it and notice that I don't seem to have changed after yesterday's party.

Although my skull is humming a lot, I don't have any memory gaps. Especially the pictures I took of Veronica's new 'decorated' top shoot me in the head when I think about last night.

With quite stiff bones I sit up and drive through my disheveled hair. Fortunately I had no braid, otherwise I would have to pull my hair tie out of my hair again. With my luck, I always rip out half of my hair.

For a moment I just play with the idea of sitting here until my hangover is gone. But as I'm just beginning to weigh the pros and cons, voices come to my ears from below where my mother's room is.

Instantly I frown. Not all the guests have disappeared yet, for instance. I actually thought that Mom threw out the last ones before I went to bed. But my memories may also deceive me. A little startled by this, I rise groaning to see who the voices belong to.

The closer I get to the living room, which you can also see from upstairs, the louder the voice becomes. Meanwhile I can assign it better and better to the male sex. At first I suspect that it's actually some guy from my level who managed to stay here somehow, but as I walk up the stairs I can now also say that the person must be a lot older. The voice is very deep.

As soon as I have reached the last stage, I get a glimpse of a man who seems to be about the same age as my mother. His hair colour is somewhere between brown and blond and reminds me - I have no idea where this thought comes from - of the mane of the pony I wanted when I was five.

And now, at seventeen, there is still no pony, but a grown man staring at our grey carpet as if spellbound. After staring at him speechlessly for a few seconds, because I can't think of any words that would be appropriate at this moment, I realize why he stares so spellbound at the fluffy surface. That's exactly the spot my new classmate threw up on.

I stare at him so spellbound that I hardly notice how he lifts his gaze. "Is that ... ", he starts with a sentence, but doesn't seem to have the desire to finish it. "Yes, that's vomit, but who are you?"

"I am FP", now he looks at me completely: "And you?" "My name is Betty', I imagine myself as well: 'Next question: What exactly are you doing here? "He is my date", my mother's voice now also sounds: "And last night I spontaneously decided to take him home with me." "O-Okay", I pinch my eyes a crevice wide together. The whole situation is really much too strange for me. 


	13. Chapter 13

**Betty**

The next few weeks almost fly by and nothing special happens. My mother's new boyfriend keeps dropping by, but after the third time, it's not really a big deal anymore.

I really have to admit that he is quite nice and it really seems as if he is doing my mother good. Since she brought him home, a very special smile has appeared on her lips. Something I've only seen once before.

I get along with Isabelle and Carly after everyone has seen the pictures we uploaded, not as wonderful as at the party. Instead, brunette Isabelle is back at war with me while Carly is holding back. And to be honest, I have to admit that she's really okay. We don't hate each other, but we don't spend time together either. Our lives are just too different for that.

My mother raises her voice and starts to talk: "Say, honey?" Surprised I raise my head and look at her questioningly. Normally she never speaks to me with such a nickname. I'd rather not answer, because it's too early for particularly intelligent conversations on this Saturday morning. However, I'm sure she won't leave me alone if I don't say anything. "What's the matter," I ask while nibbling on my toast. "Do you like FP?", bores himself. Over her gossip sheet she looks at me with Argus eyes. That's another question where you know you've fallen into a trap.

"Yes, he's all right", I speak every word more slowly than it would probably be normal. When she doesn't answer, I send a "Why?

At first she doesn't answer and it almost seems as if our short conversation never took place. So I nibble at my meal and think what I'm going to spend the rest of my day with.

I almost ate my bread, but my mother raised her voice again: "He made a suggestion that I would love to go into, but I also need your consent. After all, I don't want you to feel passed over."

"What kind of suggestion,' I ask, although I would much rather tell her that I think it's good that she involves me. "He asked if the two of us would like to have dinner with him and his son tonight," she now puts away her newspaper: "This way you can get to know each other better.

At first I don't know what to say and just sit there with my mouth open. At this moment I feel completely torn between the joy that my mother finally seems to be happy and the feeling that someone is suddenly there to replace my father. Someone who might make my mother forget the family I've had so far. When she leaves me for a new family, I don't have one anymore.

After just sitting there for a few seconds pondering, I tell myself my answer: "Well, I'll come with you, Mom. I don't have anything else in mind anyway. "Thank you!

Unfortunately this is even the truth. My friends have, once again, to do and I will probably hardly speak to anyone whom I do not really know. Besides I want to help my mother. Finally she let me celebrate the party.

"At what time are we supposed to meet them", I rake on to break the embarrassing silence. "At eight," she replies briefly and now turns to her food. She seems not to be interested in continuing the conversation.

So I stare at my plate and wait for her to be ready so that I can finally get up. And while I wait, I make a decision. I will try to help my mother and respect and accept her relationship with this man. However, I will make everything depend on how this meeting goes and if I can get along with his son.


	14. Chapter 14

**Jughead**

"Are you ready at last, Jughead?" my father shouts from downstairs. I sigh annoyed. "Give me another minute", I keep closing my shirt. He discussed it with me almost the whole day and to finally have my peace, I agreed after some time. After all, I really don't feel like discussing the whole day.

I really don't understand why I should dress up for this meal. It's just a visit to the restaurant and nothing more. Parents always have to panic unnecessarily.

I quickly slip into a pair of black shoes and tighten my belt. The trousers are not really my size. A last look in the mirror tempts me to go through my hair again before I leave my room.

Quite leisurely I walk down the stairs and try not to turn around again.

Not that I'm afraid to have dinner with this family, but I just don't feel like it. Once my father is in love, it's like a drug rushing through a body. Then he forgets me and everything that was important to him and has only eyes for her. And if it is not so, he will still demand that I get along well with them. But that is the last thing I want. Already now I can say that it will never be the same again, as before, if their relationship works. Besides, Dad's flame has a daughter and the last thing I want is a sister.

"There you are at last", out of the corner of my eye I see his expectant look. It was once again so clear that he would demand good behaviour from me. Unfortunately this is only not my thing at all. "Yes, finally", my tone is hard and emotionless.

"Great", he doesn't seem to have noticed that I'm not happy about what he's up to: "Let's go." The elevator doors open and we enter together.

My fingers close around the metal railing that was attached to the wall of the elevator for the older people here in the house. I use the unyielding material to finally release some pressure. Why did my father have to buy another woman? Aren't the people he already has enough for him?

The journey to the restaurant takes a felt eternity, in which my father and I sit quietly next to each other and do not say a word. Apparently he noticed that I was not looking forward to the coming event with much joy. But I haven't dared to say that to his face yet. He seems to be really happy and even if I don't feel that way, I don't have to destroy his mood before the meeting starts. That would be really bad even for me.

Relaxed, he steers the car to the parking lot behind the pizzeria we are going to today, slows down the pace and stalls the engine awkwardly. Sometimes I really wonder where he learned to drive.

But before we get off, he turns on his seat to me: "Please be friendly to Alice and her daughter, Jughead". I sigh reluctantly: "I'll try. But I can't promise." "All right, that's enough for me," he unbuckles and gets out before I have another chance to reply.

One last time take a deep breath and do it right away. How the meeting will go so far, I cannot estimate at all. Either it will be all right or total hell.

I look skeptically at the pizza house. "What kind of woman is that if she wants to go to this store," I judge skeptically. My father gives me an examining look: "I suggested this place." "Why is that then?", my tone is a little derogatory when I look at the shop. "I just wanted to try something new", he shrugs his shoulders indifferently. "But that's not a permanent state, is it?" I sound skeptical. "Don't be so cynical, son," he rebukes me: "You promised to be friendly." "I know," I admit. "But only when we're inside the restaurant."

Without another word, he grabs my arm and pulls me inside the restaurant. It was clear that he would take me at my word again. So he just opens the swing doors and storms in. So within a few seconds I'm standing between some other guests in the restaurant and would love to sink into the ground. What did my father get me into?

But since I promised to behave - or rather to try - I am pleased to ask: "Is your girlfriend already there? I watch him as he lets his gaze wander through the room. Strangely enough, it's quite revealing to see how his facial expression changes. At first he is quite neutral, but when he doesn't seem to find it, his mood drops a little. But then the corners of his mouth rise at once and his eyes begin to glow.

A little confused by his reaction, I follow his gaze. A dark-haired woman waves to him, also smiling. She seems to be about his age.

Immediately I have to admit to myself that she looks very nice and seems to be really happy to see my father. She earns me some extra points, but I would never admit that.

Her daughter seems to be standing next to Dad's girlfriend. As soon as I see her, one of my eyebrows goes up. Because although she turns her back to me, she looks a little familiar to me. I just feel like I know the way her blonde hair falls over her shoulders and the proportions of her body. Oh my God" is the only thing I can say when our eyes meet. Almost instantly my heart sinks into my pants. Seriously? Why does my life hate me so much!


	15. Chapter 15

**Betty**

"Betty, they're here," my mother announces so happily that I can already imagine that she's smiling like a monkey on drugs. Although I growl a bit, I don't lift my gaze from the mobile phone in my hands.

About half an hour ago Cheryl called me and told me in tears that everyone would hate her. During this phone call I hardly had a chance to speak and I didn't really understand what she was talking about. That's exactly what I'm trying to find out now. However, Cheryl is not answering any of my questions right now, which almost makes me lose my mind. She really sounded finished and I'm really worried about her. I would love to just storm out of the restaurant, call a taxi and drive to her. She's the only thing I can think about right now. If she would just finally tell me what she seems so afraid of, I could take her away. But right now it's my mother's turn.

When I don't answer her, she simply takes my mobile away: "Mom, that's not fair. I really need my cell phone." She reacts by letting her right eyebrow rise. "Please, you don't understand," I try to make her understand the importance of my actions: "It's a matter of life and death." "Betty," she begins with a sharp tone that makes me appear much smaller to her: "You always say that and in the end it's all about the next shopping trip with Veronica. "But this time it's really important," I insist. "When we get back home, you can be stubborn, but not now," she warns me: "It's really important for me to make a good impression and for that you have to play along. "Why should I," I hiss angrily. "Because otherwise you won't get your cell phone back," she says, making my smartphone disappear into her right coat pocket.

I'd like to say something in return, tell her that I'm not going to let it be that easy with me, but the sight of the boy next to FP upsets me completely. I can feel the jaw falling down right down the chin. Oh my God! I really have to muster all my restraint not to swear out loud.

There, next to my mother's new boyfriend, is Jughead Jones. Long hated classmate, most popular boy of the school and Womanizer. He's wearing a shirt - I never would have guessed he owned anything like that - and black jeans that look much more like something he'd wear. But today it doesn't sit so deep that you think it's going to slip off his hips at any moment. Instead he even wears a black leather belt. Even his dark hair doesn't fall into his eyes today for a change. Instead he seems to have combed it back somehow. This new look almost makes him look like a new person. But I know for a fact that he would never change his innermost being so drastically. He likes himself way too much for that.

Shortly my gaze wanders to FP, who stares at my mother as happily as she does at him. The facial expressions of her children both seem to be completely hidden or just ignored.

Only when I look at FP do I realize why I never thought that this could be his son. In contrast to Jughead, his hair is much lighter and his eyes are completely different. FP's eyes are bright brown and soft, while his son's are green and insincere. Apparently Jughead is more like his mother.

"M-Mom, I am sick," is the only thing I am able to bring out. She stares at me briefly, but has no more time to say anything, because just at this moment both of them come over to us together. Although, if you look closely, you might think that FP is literally dragging his son with him. He just stood there and stared at me.

FP gives me a strange smile, which only makes me feel like a toddler who is trying to be taught that the favourite cuddly toy has unfortunately disappeared in the laundry. "It's nice that you also came," he says friendly: "Then you'll also have the opportunity to get to know each other."

For the love of my mom, I put on a smile and nod. But I can't say anything, because then I would surely explain to him in a not very distinguished way that I had the pleasure to meet Jughead and wouldn't like to repeat it.

But if I did, my mother would never speak to me again as soon as we got in the car. That's why I prefer to hold back and just nod.

"Jughead, that's Betty," he introduces me to his son when he realizes I'm not going to say anything: "And Betty, that's my son Jughead." "Unfortunately, I already know that, Dad," he says immediately.

Reflexively I send him a look of death. He doesn't seem to have any intention of behaving well for his father, which makes me hate him even more.

I can't say that I'm happy that he is FP's son, but I can't change that anymore. But you can't choose your children either.

"Oh, that's right. You go to the same school," both parents remember at the same time. "Yes, we go to a class, my mood sinks into the cellar.

Didn't I say that I would support my mother? At the moment this decision is about to sink like the Titanic. Because if I have to spend another minute with this unbearable boy, I'll probably go crazy. Although I'm really trying to pull myself together for my mother, Jughead is really pushing me to my limits. How does anyone manage to bear his presence without running out of the room screaming! When he becomes my stepbrother at some point, I move out.


	16. Chapter 16

**Betty**

"Does anyone want ice cream?" my mother asks to break the silence that reigns between us children. Although the two adults have been talking excitedly since the beginning of the meeting, we children have hardly exchanged a word. Instead, we look at each other every two minutes, even though the other one can't help it that our parents seem to have fallen in love. But how else can you reduce your anger in a restaurant?

"I", I now speak while concentrating on controlling myself. But Jughead seems to be trying less. "I would much rather disappear now," he replies to my mother, whereupon I instinctively give him a light kick under the table.

"Ouch," he complains, almost like a small, innocent child, and gives me a hostile look. His presence makes me angrier every minute. Why must he of all people be FP's son? Does fate hate me so much?

I grin at him provocatively before turning to my mother. My cell phone is still in her coat pocket and that fact almost drives me crazy. I would never call myself a cell phone addict, but at this moment I want it more than anything. Okay no, even better than my cell phone, I want Jughead not to be FP's son at all, just a big joke. But I don't tell my mother what I think. I can't screw up her date. The discussion that we will have in the car, I can already imagine lively.

As I know her, she will only see and defend her side again, while I remain stubborn. That is exactly our problem. We are both as stubborn as two donkeys, which is why it will take days before we change words again, even if our pride also interferes. Unfortunately we are much too similar in these points.

"I knew that you were going to a school, but I was really surprised that you were in the same class," FP continues, because he doesn't seem to like the silence between the young people at the table either. I only give a slight humming of myself, for which I get questioning looks from both adults. Even FP knows that I usually answer with words. I usually only make individual noises when something is going on.

"Yes, very surprising," Jughead replies in my place and takes a sip from his wine glass. There's a glass in front of me too, but I haven't touched it a single time yet. Instead I just try to concentrate on a spot on my bright green place mat and hope that time goes by so fast. But no chance. Now we've been in this, admittedly good, restaurant for an hour now, which seems to pull like chewing gum.

"FP sounds so euphoric that you might think he was smoking something: "Because even though Alice and I haven't known each other long, we've decided we'd like to move in together."

Jughead immediately swallows his drink and starts coughing like crazy. He expresses exactly what I feel at this moment.

At first, the spit stays away as the thought of FP moving in with my mother soon nests in my head.

"T-This is a joke," I stammer in shock. Although both of them have been together for several weeks now, I never really thought about the possibility that they would move together at some point. Especially not that they would announce it so suddenly. Couldn't we have been told that gently? However, I don't know myself how one should have done that.

"No, Betty, this is not a joke", she gently reaches for my hand to show me that she is with me: "We are not going to move in together right away. FP and Jughead will just sleep with us for one night on the weekend." "Why is that?", that's still bad. Then I even have to spend time with him before our parents move in together. "And then why did we go to them of all people?" Jughead has also found his voice again.

"We want everyone to get used to living together first, before we really take the step and move in together," says FP: "And we go to Alice's apartment because it's bigger. We don't know yet whether we'll move to another apartment later or to Betty and Alice's." "But please support us a little and give the whole thing a chance," my mother now also intervenes. "This is really important to us", FP confirms again and takes my mother's free hand into hers.

I take a deep breath. Both really deserve love, but moving in with Jughead is a nightmare come true. 


	17. Chapter 17

**Betty**

Contrary to my expectations, we don't start arguing as we approach the car. Instead, as soon as I set foot outside, I fall into stubborn silence. Far too deep the shock still sits in my bones. In my head everything is spinning like crazy, while I imagine the most horrible pictures.

The information that my mother is about to move in with FP just doesn't fit into my head. I am totally torn inside. On the one hand I wish them both a good relationship that makes them happy, but on the other hand I also think of myself and how my life will soon change. I always wanted siblings, but not Jughead. A family with him is the worst thing that can happen to me.

Slowly I open the car door and get in. My mother does it for me the same way. As I fasten my seat belt I wait for her to start the engine, but she does not. "Mom?" I ask in astonishment: "Can we start?

But she doesn't answer that question. Instead she reaches for my hand: "First I want to talk to you for a moment". That doesn't sound good at all. I pull my hand away: "We don't need to talk. You just decided over my head. Then why do you suddenly want to talk? "I'm sorry, sweetheart, but I know you and you would never have agreed to that", her voice is a little blaming, although she has no right to be angry with me. "Nevertheless, you could have warned me,' I complain: 'After all, my life will change too, and not just yours. You can't make decisions that affect me just like that. That's not fair, Mom."

I just can't believe that my mother now makes me look like I'm a bad person. I'm actually happy for her, but the information that Jughead is FP's son just threw me completely out of concept. I could have just stormed out of the restaurant in anger, but I didn't do that. There's no way she can call me a bad person.

As I fold my arms in front of my chest, I make a decision: "Well, if you really want to do this, just do what you want, make the decisions you want, but don't expect me to support you or be very happy about it." "She starts the engine and steers the car from the parking lot.

We get into the evening traffic. I put my head against the window and stare outside. The lights of the city cast shadows on my face while the car sneaks across the streets of New York. Looking at the people on the street makes me feel uncomfortable in my heart. Suddenly I feel terribly betrayed.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to leave kudos!


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